Shadows of Who We Used To Be
by Without-A-Muse
Summary: He's remembering what they used to be, before his father tore them apart, and how Merlin would want them to continue on. Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen


He wakes up to the sound of breakfast being put on the table. It smells so good, but he'll sacrifice eating for a few more minutes in bed, where it's warm. Where he's just like any other person. That works until the curtains are lifted to reveal the pale winter sunlight.

"Merlin! Do you have to wake me up so early? Not to mention rudely?" he gripes, rolling over and pulling his blankets over his head in an attempt to go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry, sire," an unfamiliar voice comes from the other, cold side of the blanket, "Merlin's not able to be here this morning. I'm here in his stead."

He flips his blankets from his face in surprise, something making his chest hurt, " Where is he?" he asks, something strange going through his stomach.

"Arthur! Arthur!" he hears his name being called and shakes his head, smiling apologetically to the royals seated around the table, "I'm sorry. I was lost in thought," he tells them, which brings several jokes which he laughs at politely.

Another memory. One of the very beginning. Merlin had been sick and hadn't been able to attend to him for a few days. He remembers them as being awful. And not just for him. He had been cranky, moody, surly, and difficult. Some things that he was usually, but not to such a degree. Finally, the reason for his moods struck him the day before Merlin was back. He had shaken it off, but the thought (and feeling) had persisted, and then he couldn't look at Merlin the same way.

The evening is finally finished, and everyone's headed to their respective chambers. Gwen, who's now his fiancee (that thought still fits strangely), who's one of the two people who knows how he feels, how he felt he corrects himself, about Merlin, lays a hand on his arm, smiling in that gentle way of hers.

"Goodnight," she tells him, but she says more in her voice and the way her eyes look at him. She places a brief kiss on his cheek before heading into her room. She's already inside and the door's already closed before he wishes her a goodnight as well.

He finally makes it up to his own room, but restlessness doesn't let him sleep and he paces. Memories that he's blocked for so many years, that only come when he's tired, they start flickering through his head.

Merlin's smile. Merlin at the stocks. Merlin talking to Gwen (she was the only one he never felt a pain of jealousy go through for). They now go by more quickly. Merlin eating a rat. Merlin with Lancelot. They keep going by, through all the moments, until the faces are a blur, the feelings still push their way through. Finally, he reaches the end. This is the part that hasn't let him sleep properly in years. The day Merlin had to leave and the last time he ever got to see him, his running back a dot in the dark forest.

He looks out his window, the sky inky black, devoid of stars. Then again, he doesn't see the stars anymore, even if they are there. Merlin. The name takes him back to that last memory. The moment he hates facing the most.

It was late at night, his father had already retired for bed, and they were sitting in the dark. He remembers how comfortable they were. He was leaning back against the headboard of his bed. Merlin's head was resting on his stomach, his hand making its way through his long, dark hair, and Merlin was talking about something.

He can't remember what it is now that Merlin had been talking about, and that still makes him wince in regret.

Merlin had been waving his hands in the air, describing something and he was nodding along when he heard footsteps make their way up the stairs to his room. Pushing himself up, Merlin jumped off the bed and was on the other side of the room in less than a moment. The door slammed open against the wall and Uther stood there, a grim look on his face.

"There he is," was all he said and two guards pushed forwards and locked Merlin between them.

"Father! What is this?" he had demanded, ready to start protesting, walking towards his father.

His father's cold eyes landed on him and narrowed his voice saying, "He is a wizard," felt like cold water being poured on him. Of course he had known that about Merlin. There wasn't much that they hadn't told each other.

"Father, really," he started, the excuse that obviously there was some mistake, but was stopped cold by the look his father gave him once more.

"His execution shall be tomorrow morning. I expect you to be there," his father told him, the note of finality in his voice barring any room for argument

So he watched, while something inside him broke as they took Merlin away from him.

Now he's sitting, head in hands, shaking as the memory speeds up and the images whip through his brain once more. The images of Merlin, looking confused as they whisper their plan to him, of Gaius's face as he realized what had happened, Gwen and her plan brewing behind her saddened eyes, and Morgana. Morgana, who stayed out of the way, whose sadness seemed distant and fake. It wasn't until later when they found out why.

The image of Merlin being let out of his cell, the three of them sneaking out by some old way that Gwen had remembered. Into the forest where Gwen hugged Merlin, whispered something in his ear and left a quick kiss on his cheek before moving away a few feet, leaving them alone for as long as she could.

They stood for a moment. Silent. And then, one solitary tear slid from Merlin's eye, matching the one he himself was hiding behind years of experience. He wanted to be able to joke about it, talk about what a weakling Merlin was, but it was untrue and the words got lost somewhere between his throat and his tongue, something large blocking the way. That was what broke him, the tear and knowing he would never be able to joke about it like before. Suddenly he was in Merlin's arms, holding on for dear life and hoping, praying that he would be able to absorb as much of him as possible so he wouldn't have to leave. Then his mouth found Merlin's and his hands found the hair he loved feeling. He tasted tears and couldn't tell if they were his or Merlin's.

It was Gwen's voice, the softly spoken, "Arthur, we have to go," that pulled them apart, the tone that said she wanted to leave them, wanted them together, that also said she was scared. They pulled back, just a hair's distance, and he was wiping the tears off of Merlin's face, who was doing the same to him.

The memory ends with Merlin backing away and then running quickly through the trees, his pack bouncing slightly on his thin back. Gwen had to tug him, stumbling away from the forest and led him back to his room, and held him that night as he stayed in a grey place that was in between sleep and hell.

Now the sun's coming up and he's waking up, drenched in sweat, dark circles decorating around his eyes. He remembers what today is and is resigned to the fact. They both are. Gwen knows that they both don't love each other. Not the way they each loved Merlin, but they're content to spend their lives together, as friends. They haven't forgotten about the need for an heir, but they've agreed that that will come in time.

She manages to lip in during a few seconds when no one's looking over both their shoulders. She places a hand on his shoulder, rests her cheek against his back and he knows that she misses him too. That the time he's missed haunts her too.

During the ceremony, one more memory flashes through him, the one of his coronation, of how he caught Merlin's eye right before he was crowned. It had been a few days after he had realized how he felt. And, for just a moment, a small piece of time, he believes that he sees Merlin smiling from the back, happy for them. Then he closes his eyes and kisses the bride


End file.
